Sunny Side Up
Sara cringed. Arnie, enraged she made scrambled eggs and not sunny side up, flung the plate at her head. A thin stream of blood crept down the side of her face. Years of falsely claiming she’s clumsy, hiding bruises and living in alienation and fear. “No more,” she screamed as she gripped the handle of the cast iron skillet. He crumpled to the kitchen floor with one blow. The second blow ensured he’d never hurt her again. His high fences finally came in handy. She buried him in the soft earth by the mushrooms that resembled sunny side up eggs.
PHOTO PROMPT – © Erin Leary